Stardust
by BlueStarAngel9
Summary: If there was one thing that Alan Grant would swear to, it would be that nothing and no one could make him step foot on the islands again. However, when the person he cares for most is in danger, will he change his mind? An Alan and Ellie character story, set after the events of Jurassic Park 3.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Notes**

This is set after Jurassic Park 3 and alternates off the beaten path from there. Its premise is based on my long running frustration of the destruction of Alan and Ellie's relationship between the movies. It still gripes me to this day. This story is a sort of 'fix it' with hopefully a little explanation of how I think they could have got to that place.

I plotted this all out and started writing this ten years ago, lost it, then found it again. I'm posting it with the hopes it will encourage me to carry on with it!

Dedication : For Jorge and Michael Crichton. Now both among the stars

 **January 2004**

The moon towered in the sky; an ever-present reality. So far away, yet within human reach. It was keeping guard over the gentle twinkle of the stars. Existences that had long ago died, but whose light refused to go out. 

Jorge remembered sitting in his sister's room, looking at the map of the stars. As he glanced into the night sky now, he tried to recall the different star clusters. It was no good. To others they were individual and meaningful. To him they were just a bunch of lights, no more significant than when he looks up in the city sky back home and sees the flashing light of the last charter plane from the local airport.

"Hey! Quit dreaming!" a voice shouted, interrupting his thoughts. "We miss something and we'll both be fired. Then you'll have all the time in the world to gaze at the stars, especially when you can't make rent and have to sleep under them."

Jorge lowered the binoculars and brought his gaze down to look at his colleague. The older man was leaning against the fencing and barely paying attention to the job at hand himself. Bob was approaching late forties, though the man denied being any older than thirty eight. The calloused fingers and the fixed, wrinkled scowl around his eyes gave away a longer life, one spent scaling together ends meet. Bob had four kids by three different wives and he had worked hard to pay his dues. Though they were told that the workplace must be clutter free, Bob had decorated one of the corkboards with snapshots of ball games, school plays and birthday parties.

"Come on, Mayer! We've been here almost twenty four hours and seen nobody. Nothin' to report and I don't blame them. Who the hell would want to even come here? Just a load of greenery. Build a Burger King on the place, then I might be open to the idea of this tropical getaway."

"Don't you get it, kid?" Bob sighed, frustrated at his young cohort. "The reason we're being paid the big bucks is cause there's something on this island that someone is trying to hide or that someone wants. Either way, we gotta play by their instructions or we won't see a damn cent. So get back in the goddamn building!"

The younger man slowly scrambled to his feet and made his way inside the concrete hut which served as their base. It was cramped, with a set of bunk beds, a work desk with a CCTV monitor and a kitchenette. A small toilet was cornered off in one end of the room. There was not an inch of privacy in their lodgings, but Jorge had been brought up with seven brothers and sisters and was used to the lack of space. The two men entered inside the building and Jorge climbed up to his top bunk, while Bob resumed his position watching the monitor of the camera footage taken from outside.

The two men were part of a small security agency based in New York and had been chosen for this assignment by their employers. They were brought into the office, one by one and told that they were being taken to a secret location to provide security for a few days. Their agency explained that the company who hired them, Evercom, were looking to invest in a tropical resort for activity vacations. They wanted security on this resort as they wanted to check that they wouldn't be gazumped before they could finalise their offer. Evercom would be sending a team out to fully check the location met their standards in a week's time, but they needed a lookout team until that point. Jorge and Bob were offered ten times the rate of normal pay for the work, and while curious of this, both men were in such need of the money that they feared to question it in case they lost the assignment.

After collecting a few belongings, Jorge and Bob had been flown to Costa Rica, where they had been inducted by a man called Peter Evers, the representative of Evercom. Peter was a rotund man in his late forties and Jorge felt that his eyes matched those of the rats he saw on the city streets every day. He was suspicious looking, even while greeting the security men with a smirk and kind words. They had been given their packs containing satellite phones, flashlights and a list of instructions and were told that all other equipment they would need would be in their working house. Mr Evers had explained to them that they must follow instructions to the letter, otherwise they would be in breach of contract and not be paid for the time they had spent. With that, the suited man shook their hands and wished them well. Jorge could have sworn that the man wanted to tell them more, but instead he departed the airport.

The two men were then blindfolded by the helicopter pilot and guided into the aircraft. It had been explained to them that this would be the procedure before they had left New York. Evercom were very cautious and although they had both signed a non-disclosure agreement, they had accepted that the company was being extremely guarded about their investments. Once on the helicopter, and up and flying, Jorge regretted this part of the agreement, as nausea soon passed over him. He decided to close his blinkered eyes and try to sleep through the journey, in the hopes that this would wave off the airsickness.

Once they had landed, the two men had been immediately guided into their hut, where their blindfolds were then removed. They were instructed to read through their instruction manuals right away and stick to the rules. With that advice, the helicopter pilot took off and they were left alone in the cabin. As the pilot was shutting the door, Jorge could see many tropical trees outside and little else. They both opened up their manuals and started reading. The instructions were not complicated; they had to watch the CCTV monitor at all times and report any activity at all via their phones. The last part read; DO NOT LEAVE THE HUT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.

Laying in his bed now, Jorge was worried that he hadn't kept that rule. However, he was comforted by the fact that there would be no one around to report his misbehaviour. Only Bob knew and Jorge was certain that the older man would not report him, for fear of getting fired himself. Besides, the two men were friends and had bonded in only a few hours. It was crazy to think that they both should stay cooped up in the small space for their whole stay. All Jorge did was take the binoculars outside to look at the stars for a few minutes.

"Oh no!" Jorge muttered, sitting up suddenly. "Dammit!"

Bob swung round from looking at the monitor to see the young man abruptly sit up in bed. "What's wrong now? Can't sleep without a teddy bear?"

Jorge ignored the teasing by the other security guard and proceeded to clamber down the bunk bed. "No," he answered. "Those stupid binoculars, I've left them outside. If anyone from Evercom comes about, they're gonna know we were outside."

"We?" Bob questioned. "Na ah, my friend. I believe you were the one star gazing. You think I should be held responsible for you slacking off? We haven't been on the job a day yet and first chance you got you broke the rules!"

"I'm sorry, OK? I just never gotta see a place like this. In the city, there ain't no stars. I just wanted to see them, just once, just for a little while. I'll go back out and search out the binoculars. Swear to God, anyone finds out then you can pin the whole mess on me, 'kay?"

With that Jorge put on one of his heavy duty boots and started to look for where he had thrown the other one before climbing onto his bunk. Bob watched the boy trip over the shoelaces of the boot on his foot twice, before jumping up from his own chair and motioning to the young man to take his place by the monitor.

"Sit down Galileo, before you hurt yourself," he impatiently exclaimed. "I'll go out there and search out the binoculars. You watch the screen and try not to burn down the place while I'm outside, could you please?"

Jorge was slightly disgruntled that Bob had so little faith in him, but he took off his boot and made his way over to the swivel chair as the other man opened his knapsack, took out his flashlight and then opened the cabin door.

"Jesus, its dark out there, how am I gonna find this thing?" Bob complained. "They would have been better off providing us with night vision goggles rather than a buck fifty crappy flashlight."

Bob swung the door shut and headed into the dark night. Jorge swivelled around in the chair, like he used to when he was a kid. The older man wasn't there to admonish him or tease him for it, so he let himself have this little treat. He could see Bob on the monitor, shining the flashlight about as he searched for the binoculars. As he rotated for a sixth time on the chair, he saw a brown lace peeking out of the dark shadow under the bed. Jorge jumped up and crouched on his knees and peered underneath the bed. As he was about to reach to grab the lace, a large barrel of thunder rocked the room.

"Great, that's gonna put Bob in a chipper mood," Jorge muttered to himself. "He's not gonna be happy about having it piss down cats and dogs on him while searching for something I lost."

Just as Jorge was grabbing the lace, the thunder sounded again. And then again. This time it was making the contents of the hut shake violently. The rolls of thunder kept coming thicker and faster and Jorge staggered to his feet and over towards the monitor, which was vibrating on the desk. There was no sign of Bob on the screen, just the abandoned flashlight. Jorge was just ready to head for the door when a hand came in shot, followed by another. Bob was crawling his way back to the flashlight.

Suddenly, something else entered the frame. It looked to Jorge to be a set of claws of an animal. They were bigger than any animal that Jorge had ever seen though. They had reached out to Bob's back, skewered him and dragged him back out of shot. Jorge ran to his knapsack and pulled out the satellite phone and dialled the emergency number.

"Hello?" he called into the speaker, his voice shaking. "We need help…this is Jorge! My friend, he's been hurt…..I don't know….I don't know what by! It…it was big…where the hell are we? Where the hell did you put us?"

 **Author Notes**

Things I know a little about: Temping, being a student, being a teacher, being a mentor.

Things I know very little about: Everything else.

Any errors in this story, please put down to creative license. I apologise if I've completely misrepresented your job, location or any other detail in the world around us.

This is a little bit of a slow burner, but promise Alan and Ellie will appear soon and will not leave!


	2. Chapter 2

August 2004

Juliet Janin stared down at the paperwork scattered on her desk, occasionally glancing up and over to the door. Her ears were pricked onto the conversation in the next room, but she knew well enough to feign attention to the assignment in front of her. 

Tomorrow would signal eight weeks to the day that Juliet had started temping at Evercom. With a slim build and immaculate dress sense, she perfectly fitted the description that the company had stated when they called her temp agency, Pink Angels. She would be twenty-seven years old at the end of the summer and, much to her mother's disappointment, had never been permanently employed. However, during tenures with five different agencies she had been highly paid as a medical secretary, a legal secretary and a school secretary, positions which she had no training and experience, even though the roles had called for it. By investing in a wardrobe of expensive couture and insuring her golden bob haircut was always perfectly in place, doused with secure hold hairspray every morning, she could prove that to get the best jobs over the scores of other women at the agency, image really was everything.

She had just finished a four week stint at a large, high priced plastic surgery clinic downtown, covering the leave of the receptionist there. On her first day at the clinic, the receptionist she had taken over from had shown her the ropes and then left her for a month. The next time she saw her, her predecessor was a different woman. Her puffed up lips, ski slope nose and pert, large breasts left no place in the imagination on what had required bed rest and recovery for the best part of a month. The secretaries in the office complex opposite liked to talk and although she made a lousy assistant, there was no one better at collating information on their employers than Juliet.

She soon learned of the affair the permanent receptionist was having with the married head surgeon and used this to her advantage. She dropped hints to her temporary boss of her knowledge, always done with a sickly-sweet smile. Juliet soon found herself in receipt of overtime pay, long lunches and a liberal attitude toward start times. In fact, on her predecessor's return she been assured by the company that she had proved so invaluable in her time there, that perhaps they could seek out a permanent position for her, with a good salary and full benefits. Juliet had refused the offer as her agency had just offered her another job and she had first refusal on it. She didn't like to stay in one place for too long. She was looking for the mother load; something that would lead her to power and money.

The job description had required a young, well presented person to provide a warm and welcoming atmosphere to a family run investment company. The candidate must be diligent and be able to effectively multitask the client paperwork. A conscientious attitude and strong memory were vital and long hours were expected. When Juliet contacted her representative at the agency, she was told that the company directors were looking for a conscientious woman, who could schmooze any visitors, but who could also handle limited paperwork. The former secretary had retired and now they were hiring a temp, with the hope she would fit in enough to take a permanent position. The company, she was told, was owned by an aging businessman who had built it up from scratch. Now that the owner had been unable to take part in the day to day running, he left the organisation to his three sons, but he still had to sign off on any major decisions the brothers were to make.

Evercom was a domestic and international investment and development company, Juliet was informed on her first day. Their main focus was to redevelop land for commercial projects, such as turning derelict council estates into recreation parks. After spending her last job chatting to people whose faces were covered in bandages, she welcomed the possible move into a more corporate climate. However, after working for the past two months, Juliet had not yet received even the slightest hint that she would be made a permanent addition to the team. She would even admit herself, she had not put a whole lot of effort into the work over the past two months. She was constantly late and the directors did not appreciate her tardiness.

Juliet carefully tucked her hair behind her ear, so not to mess up her flawless style, and cocked her head towards the door as she heard Peter Ever, the eldest of the directors, clear his throat. The three brothers had entered into the building two minutes previously, accompanied by a young man, no more than Juliet's age. He had a large scar on the right side of his head and flinched when the phone rang. Juliet wondered what a man like that was doing having a meeting with all three directors.

"But Mr Torres, the instructions were very clear," Peter stated, sitting directly opposite the young man. "We said for you both to stay in the cabin at all times. Of course, the company is very sorry that your colleague…passed away, but the rules sent to your agency, which you both agreed to, were very clear."

"They were not clear…" Jorge started, the bile starting to rise in his throat. "They…were…not. Nowhere in the rules did it say what we were guarding. God…those things. They killed my friend. If we had known that we were going to _that_ island, we never would have taken the job."

The young man could feel anger rise up in him, mixed with a pure fear that formed when he remembered that night. His fear would haunt his dreams and plague his every moment for the rest of his life. Half of him thought that Bob had gotten the easy way out, that he was at peace now, but then he recalled the deceased man's face on the monitor and he knew that the suffering had not been quick. Jorge looked across the table at Peter and then glanced across to the other directors. While the other two brothers had an inkling of compassion and regret across their faces, the elder brother sitting across from him had not. Peter Evers had a cold steel across his grey eyes and his head was held high. This was not a fight the executive was prepared to lose; he was just about to answer when his brother stepped in.

"Like my brother said, Mr Torres, we are sincerely sorry for the loss of your friend and please pass our condolences on to Mrs. Meyer." Kennedy Evers answered. He had soft brown eyes and a warming colour in his cheeks that his older brother did not. He exchanged glances with his twin, Edward, over their sibling's hastiness and continued to talk to Jorge.

"Part of the job that you signed on for was an unknown element. That was why the pay was so high. We did our best to protect you. We built a solid hut for your work, which actually did save your life, Mr. Torres," Kennedy calmly stated.

"Yeah, plus we told you to stay in the hut, which you did not do," Peter interrupted, glaring at the audacity of the young boy opposite him. "You're lucky you and the widow got a cent; you were in violation of contract."

Jorge glared right back at the older man. He knew that the conditions of the contract were broken, but that didn't stop him hoping for a little compassion. He could see he was not going to get it in this meeting room, but he needed to speak his mind. For the sake of Bob's memory and for what they both went through he needed to make his position clear.

"I'm aware of the contract conditions, Sir," Jorge took a breath and then continued. "But there's only the four of us in this room, so let's not get into legal talk. We all know what was on that island. I was in the hut and the only reason that thing didn't try harder to get me was because it had…because it had gotten to Bob first. I don't want any money, if that's what you're so worried about. I just don't want anyone else on that damn island. Non-disclosure or not, I hear of anyone stepping a toe on that island, that ain't the Army, or the Marines or whatever….then I'm speaking out. Is that clear enough for you, Mr. Evers?"

With that, Jorge stood up and grabbed his crutches. The three other men looked at each other. They were not worried about the young man, he posed no real risk to their reputation. They had been in business for long enough to know that a hot-headed moment cold be easily quashed with the cold mind of a business strategist. Kennedy jumped out of his seat and fully opened the door for Jorge, who was slowing pulling himself to the room's exit, trying not to show any pain on his face from the injured ankle that was still twisting in agony.

"Juliet?" Kennedy called to the secretary. "Can you please help Mr. Torres out and make sure he gets in a cab ok? Then you can take your lunch. One hour, Juliet. We expect you back by two pm."

The secretary pulled on her jacket and grabbed her large black, Gucci purse. She nodded towards her boss and then opened the main office door for Jorge. "Here let me help you," she said toward the young man and gave him a beaming smile.

"Thank you, Miss." Jorge replied and responded with a slight smile. Juliet guided him out the door. She knew with one flutter of her eyelashes she could convince the man to have lunch with her. She only had an hour, but she was confident she could gain an impressive amount of information from him in that time.

Kennedy returned to the office and slammed the door shut, startling his twin, who had remained quiet until this time.

"Relax, Ken." Edward said, motioning for the other man to come sit back down. "He's a young kid, he's got no capital, no support and no legal grounds. It's just empty words. Unless Juliet manages to get him run over by a cab, we'll never hear about him again. Let his own company deal with him."

His twin nodded. "Yeah, I know. Speaking of Juliet, have you seen the mess out there? Has she even filed anything since she's been working here?" Kennedy asked.

"No," Peter replied sternly. "I'm going to call the agency tomorrow. Ask them to replace her with someone who can actually use a hole punch."

Edward shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. "Well, I don't mind her, she's a bit untidy, but she'll get better."

His two brothers slipped each other a glance. "What you mean to say is because she looks good, you're happy to have the company go to hell in a hand basket as long as you've got something pretty to look at in the morning?" Kennedy stated. "How's single life treating you by the way?"

Edward grimaced towards his twin. His marriage had collapsed seven months earlier, leaving him rattling around his penthouse apartment by himself. Although he knew his brother was only teasing, there was an air in truth in the statement. He was lonely, he did miss company and Juliet always gave him a smile when he arrived in to work. They had even had a lunch in the office once in a while. It seemed to him that maybe, just maybe, she would be open to the idea of a drink after work one day. She seemed like a woman who would appreciate being wined and dined.

"I'm not saying give her the job for good," Edward said, scratching his ear. "Just give her another week or two; it'll take the agency that long to find someone anyway. In the meantime, I'll have a word with her."

"Yeah, I bet you will..." Kennedy smirked, making a lude gesture with his hands.

"Enough!" Peter exclaimed. "This isn't junior high, we're trying to run a business here. Fine, let the girl stay for now, but she's your responsibility Eddie. Now can we actually get back to business?

"Actually, I'd prefer to discuss Eddie's love life…or lack of," Kennedy stated, putting his hands behind his head and grinning. "Then maybe we can make some margaritas and flick through the latest issue of Vogue; get the latest spring fashions."

"You crack me up Ken, really, you do," Edward stated deadpan towards his twin. "The comedy world missed its shining star when you decided to enter the world of business by hanging on our coattails."

Kennedy's grin dropped from his face, a tinge of hurt across his features. "Ed, that's not fair and you know it. I may not have got a degree, but while you and Peter were at school, I was the one looking after Ma. You think Dad was taking care of her when she was sick? He paid for the best nurses in the world, but I was the one reading to her and sitting in doctors' waiting rooms for her."

The three brothers grew silent at the mention of their mother. While their father was largely an absent figure in their lives, their mother was their constant, their cheerleader and their friend. Having passed away almost two decades earlier, she had not faded from their minds. She was the binding relationship between the brothers and their link to each other had often faded since her early death.

"We know what you did, Ken," Peter said solemnly. "But, we're going off track somewhat. Dad will be here shortly and we need to be prepared. He put this all on us, the deal he's been working on for years, and we're bringing people back in body bags after a few months! We screwed up, gentlemen. We need to show Dad that we can seal this deal for him and make it work. Ken, the new security agency, what have we got?"

"Right, well the new agency is a hell of a bunch better!" Kennedy replied as he moved closer to the desk and opened the new file. "They're sending four guys; one is an ex-soldier, served on the front line. One's a big game hunter, the best in the business they say. The other two are Rangers. They've served as bodyguards throughout the world, to important people. If I was gonna be under attack, then I want one of these fellas next to me. We've got the right guys this time, they come at a price, but these three can face anything. Then once the deal's done, they have a whole troop of qualified guys to send out to the location."

"Good, that'll help a little when talking to Dad at least." Peter brought out another piece of paper and straightened out the creases. "Eddie, what about travel arrangements? Have you got them finalised yet?"

Eddie immediately straightened up, eager to impress his big brother. "Oh, yeah all done and set. We just need to confirm the names. Transport booked there and back for all the different teams and all the equipment has been ordered and should be delivered by the end of the week. As far as I'm concerned, this thing is going to run like clockwork. How about you Peter, you finalised the teams?"

Peter began to bend the corner of the page he was holding and sighed, "Almost. I mean I'm happy with my selection, but I know Dad and I know he's going to take issue with it."

"Just be firm, Peter." Edward said in support of his elder brother. "You've researched these people, you know their skills. You know what Dad's like, he goes on his gut. That was fine when he was younger and he was starting out..."

"When I was six years old, I started a business with four oranges, a bag of hope and a dream..." Kennedy interrupted. His two brothers smiled at his mocking of their father, having heard the story of his infant entrepreneur skills one too many times.

"I think I can sell him on most the team," Peter said. "It's just the one position I'm worried about. I know he's not going to like who I've chosen for the..."

There was a loud creek as the office door opened and an old, frail looking man used his cane to step into the room.

"Where the goddamn hell is that useless lump of a secretary?" the old gentleman demanded. "That's what you get for hiring some slip of a girl! Mrs Windsor was with me over thirty years, she was never late and stayed until she was told to leave. I goddamn forgot to send her home one day and she was still in the office when I got in the next morning! That's what you want in a secretary!"

The three brothers immediately stood up at the man's arrival. "Juliet's just on lunch break, Dad," Edward replied. "She'll be back within the hour and will get right back to work."

Jim Evers sat down at the table and grunted audibly at his son's defence of the secretary. In his eighties, he had enough employees in all his years in business to know a bad egg when he came across them. When he had met Juliet a few weeks ago, he had entered the office to find her filing her nails and the phone off the hook. She had quickly composed herself and put on a fake smile and a mouth full of excuses, but he was nobody's fool. That one was trouble.

"Well, come on, let's get on with it then," Jim stated. "I'm trying to invest in some land and I get notice that the first guy that steps foot on the island is currently six feet under! What the hell went on? I told you what Hammond said about the animals. The ones left on there won't interfere with you, if you don't interfere with them. What kind of crummy security outfit did you hire, Kennedy? They sent a dogsbody and some kid! I told you that Hammond said to send the best!"

Edward, Kennedy and Peter were still standing by their chairs, intimidated by their father's arrival. Kennedy cleared his throat and replied to his father's question. "The security company we hired knew what we required, Dad. We did everything right. We got the safehouse on the island, we gave written instructions to stay in the cabin until the building group arrived; we gave them all the provisions they could possibly need."

"The guys didn't follow the orders, Dad," Kennedy intercepted. "We all but tied them to chairs in the cabin; it wasn't Eddie's fault. He's hired a new firm now, really top-notch."

"Well they better be," Jim added firmly. "I can't afford for this deal to be a failure, boys."

Kennedy sat down in his chair and the other men followed his example. He looked at his brothers before deciding how to broach the delicate subject with his father. "Another thing, Dad, we met with the kid who was there. How sure are you that John Hammond knew what was on that island? The kid seemed to think...well he seemed to think that this animal attacked on its own...that it sought them out."

Jim Evers looked up at his most precocious son. Three years previously, the aging businessman had sat in John Hammond's drawing room. The two men had been contemporaries and competitors for nearly half a century. Jim had of course, read all about Hammond's problems with his island chain over the past two decades. He felt, however, that there was still room to maximise profit and had met with the other man to belt out a deal.

"Kennedy, I'm not an idiot, no matter what you and your brothers seem to think. I may seem like a bumbling old fool, but I check my facts. A lesson you can learn when you hire a kid as a security guard, huh? I met with Hammond. He showed me documents presenting the production of every animal on that island and he showed me documents detailing the destruction of every dangerous animal on that island. I knew Hammond, I've could tell when he was lying. Always have been able too. We've got the animals we want on that island and they'll be more of the same once we're up and running."

Peter now cleared his throat and spoke up. "I think the kid was just trying to make up for his mistake Dad, we've seen the documents Hammond showed you ourselves and had them checked. They're the real deal. We just got off to a bad start, but we've learnt from those mistakes and we're ready to go now."

His father nodded and continued, "Good, Peter. Now, Hammond's estate executor agreed to the price. The old fool may have been on his last legs when we met and agreed to the contract, but a deal's a deal."

"Shouldn't his family have a say? What if they appeal once we've spent more money?" asked Ken, frowning slightly at the murkiness of bargaining with a dying man.

"That won't happen. Hammond was a stubborn fool." Jim responded, smirking even now at the idea of getting the better of his old rival. "He won't let a silly little thing like death get in the way of a business contract. Those kids of his, or grandkids, he left everything else to them, including the funds from this deal. They don't like the idea of the island. That's why we've been held up for three goddam years. He wanted it to go to someone who would appreciate its potential."

"Well, our construction crew are ready to get in and start work the minute we're given the go ahead," Edward introduced, trying to gain his father's approval. "In less than a year, we'll be already for the creative team to arrive. Peter?"

Peter sat up straight and perfectly arranged his papers. "We've secured James Munroe, he's the best in the business at this, won multiple awards in his field. He comes highly recommended and will do wonders for what we want."

"Shame he doesn't have a bird in a cattery's clue as to what he's actually going to be doing…" Ken interrupted, smirking at his older brother.

Peter slammed his fist on the table. "He knows enough!" he exclaimed, the tension in his forehead building. His attempt to build his crew had been more difficult than he had imagined. The brief he had given them had been less than detailed and even with the offer of a large amount of money, people seemed to be reluctant. "He knows plenty," he said, softly this time, regaining his composure. "He's signed the contract, he's agreed to the terms and will be on that plane in nine months' time. We've hired more crew, all outstanding in their particular fields that will assist him, as well as our tech crew to run the IT part and general building staff. That's on top of the new security team I've hired after someone screwed up the first one!"

It was now Kennedy's chance to slink back in his chair. He knew he was never going to meet his older brother or his father's high expectations. His twin brother would just go along with whatever they asked, but Kennedy had moral objections to the project. He just wished he had the guts to go out on his own.

"What about the experts we talked about?" barked Jim, interrupting Kennedy's thoughts.

Peter's face turned into a grimace. He knew his father wasn't going to like what he heard. "We've approached a number of people in the industry. A few are willing, but they don't have the experience you desired. I've approached Dr Sarah Harding and I think I've almost got her on board…"

"Dammit, Peter! Didn't I say I didn't want her?" Jim sneered in the direction of his oldest son. "I want someone with integrity. She and that Malcolm fool feed off the limelight. I thought I told you I wanted Grant!"

"Dad, we've spoken to a lot of people about Dr Grant. They all say that it's not going to happen. He won't go back," Peter replied, with the information he had rehearsed.

"For Christ's sake, this is what I'm leaving my business to?! The one I've built up since I was a kid? Three sons I've got and none of you have half the guts it needs to build a business. You," he said, nodding towards Kennedy. "You, have all your mother's softness, but none of her backbone. You just snivel around on your brothers' work feeling sorry for yourself. All the while, Edward, you're too distracted by any woman that glances your way to ever fully focus on the work. But Peter, I had hopes for you. You've got the focus, you've got the brains, but you've got no balls. So, Grant might not want to join? Tough! No one is unreachable. One dotty old man and then that moron couple got him on a plane, are you saying you can't do the same?! I don't care if you beg, if you plead or you hold a gun against his head, you'll get Alan Grant on that God damn island!"

Jim Evers staggered up from his chair as his three children sat there in silence, glancing at each other. Peter looked at his brothers, who were already licking their wounds. He wouldn't be one of them. He would make his father proud. No matter what.


	3. Chapter 3

**October 2005**

Alan Grant hurriedly placed his notes into his tatty, brown briefcase. They were already crumpled from years of re-use, had coffee ring marks distorting the words and had been taped back together in several places. For Alan though, they were more of a prop; a reassurance to the students, and particularly any passing faculty members, that the professor had put some effort into preparing the lecture. He could, however, recite the lecture he had just given in his sleep, especially given the lethargic undergraduate students he had just taught had a less than enthusiastic response to the information he was dispelling. 

It was more than generous to say that Dr Grant and his students shared the same mind-set towards sitting in a clammy lecture hall on a humid October afternoon. It had been two years since Alan had been appointed as a part time lecturer in Palaeontology at Checkland University, but it had certainly felt longer. The Masters students he supervised were certainly more engaging, offered more of a dialogue of ideas, but the undergrads just seemed to sit there, like zombies, or were too busy messaging on their cell phones to even hear a word Alan was saying. They rarely asked questions, which Alan preferred, because the ones they did ask were on a topic he certainly didn't want to answer.

Alan zipped up his briefcase to halfway, with the knowledge that the zip hadn't been fully functional in the last decade and tried not to make eye contact with the students who were now filing out of the lecture theatre, past his desk. There had been a large turnout for this lecture, a side effect of teaching in the afternoon. The morning classes that Alan presided over were often almost empty, with half of his students sleeping in after a night of downing tequila shots into the early hours. Those that did attend practically crawled in, armed with a litre of coffee and looking and smelling like they spent the night at a brewery.

This afternoon though, was almost a full house. He'd even had a few mumbled responses from some of the students when he'd asked questions. None of them of course were entirely accurate, but it at least showed that they knew they were in the right lecture. Last semester, he'd had a student that was on time for every class, sat in the front row and took notes on every word he said. It wasn't until three weeks later she enquired whether they were going to study any Shakespeare that term. It had surpassed that she thought she was supposed to be in 'Introduction to English Literature'. And that was one of his better students.

Alan ran a hand over his greying hair and thought about how it made him look old, rather than distinguished. Still, he'd rather look aging and natural than start to try to delay the passing of youth. One of the history professors, Dr Torte, used a spray-on hair dye to try and cover up his faded and thinning locks. The university had a rather minimal approach to air conditioning though and when it was hot, beads of black sweat dripped from his hairline on to his rather misguided wardrobe choice of a crisp, white shirt. Alan knew he wasn't growing old gracefully, far from it, but at least he had the dignity not to hide it. Even though the palaeontologist was well into his sixth decade on the planet, he was certainly considered one of the more attractive members of faculty by both staff and students. He still had an athletic build, never being one for slouching in front of the TV for days at a time, gorging on burgers and chips. Although time added wrinkles and a harshness to his skin, it wasn't detracting from the classic handsome appearance of his face.

The salacious smiles from some of the passing nineteen year olds at their good looking professor made Alan a little uncomfortable. He would be a hypocrite if he claimed he had never taken things further with a student or an underling, but certainly not a teenager, not even in his younger days. Still, at least with undergraduates this age, all he got were a few fluttered eye lashes and the odd suggestive comment; they rarely flirted so evocatively that it would require him to turn down their advances.

Slowly, the last few students trundled out of the classroom as Alan looked up, hoping it was safe to make his move in the same direction without being interrupted. Unfortunately, just as he glanced towards the door his eye caught the attention of one of his newest undergrads. The young man, with mousey brown hair in a messy style grinned as he headed towards him, thinking Alan's eye contact was permission for a discussion. There was nowhere Alan could go, the rest of his class were proceeding so leisurely out of the theatre, that they were blocking the only exit. There was a fire exit up the top of the room, with the doors firmly closed and only to be released in an emergency. There was a large part of Alan that wanted to make a run for it and burst through the restricted doors. He was sure that a large part of the faculty would empathise with his decision; from the overheard conversations of his peers, they all seemed to despise the first year students too.

With a laboured sigh, Alan plastered on a false, polite smile as the young man approached him.

"Yes, Mr…Winters," Alan enquired, hoping he had remembered the student's name correctly, "What can I help you with?"

The younger man stood up straighter, pleased that he'd managed to garner his professor's attention without much effort. The classroom was quiet and the hallway outside empty; the crowds had quickly dispersed now that the majority of lectures were over for the day. Jeremy Winters cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Alan had a bad feeling about what he was going to be asked. Students asking a question about assignments tended to just blurt it out in passing. The boy in front of him looked nervous, as if he knew the question he was about to ask would not illicit a positive response from his tutor.

"Yeah…uh…so, Dr Grant…could I ask you a question...if that's ok?" Jeremy stuttered.

"You may certainly ask, Mr Winters," Alan responded, his plastered smile somewhat fading.

"So…I just wondered…I know you said we can't ask you anything about your time on…" Jeremy stopped and changed his voice to a hushed whisper, as if he and Alan were not the only ones in the room "Nublar and Sorna, but there's something I really would like to know."

Alan started shaking his head. He made it a point at the beginning of every year to take five minutes with every class and explain to them that if they were expecting an in-depth recalling of his time on the Islands, then they should leave now. His job was to discuss animals that had lived millions of years ago, not the genetically modified versions that misguided scientists and billionaires had created.

"Mr Winters, let me stop you right there. I have a strict rule, if I relented for you, then in fairness I'd have to for everyone," Alan told the young man. Jeremy looked dejected at his professor's words and the palaeontologist couldn't help but feel sorry for the boy standing in front of him, dressed in a sweater that was three sizes too big and pants that seemed to be made out of curtains, judging by the pattern on them.

"I…it just it doesn't make sense…there were species on the Islands that weren't on InGen's list, weren't there? That family on Sorna, they said they saw a Spinosaurus. That definitely wasn't on the list. Not just in the press release either...my buddy Todd, he hacked into the old InGen systems. Nadda!"

Jeremy was bouncing on the balls of his feet now, clearly excited that he may have stumbled onto something that would intrigue the scientist.

"So, Todd and me…well mainly Todd, cause he's the guy with the computer skills. Hey, Dr Grant, anything you need help breaking into? How about personnel files? We can get you some real sordid shit on some of the other lecturers! You'll never guess what Dr Collins got fired from her last job for! Apparently, she was using students to…"

"Jeremy," Alan interrupted, slightly intrigued over his fellow staff members' past and wary that the kids may have also looked into his personnel file. "I don't think it's especially prudent to discuss criminal activity with me, do you?"

Alan knew that he turned a blind eye more than other lecturers. He didn't mark the students tardy, even when they turned up ten minutes before the end of class. He didn't insist on phones being banned in the lecture theatre or any other tedious rules set out in the University charter. As far as he was concerned, his students were adults and should make their own choice on how involved and dedicated they were to be to their work. He wouldn't hand hold them through their university years, just so they could get the shock of their life when they entered the real world and found out that people will screw you over any chance they get, sometimes just for their own amusement.

"Oh, yeah. You're probably right, Dr Grant. I wouldn't wanna get you in trouble. You're…you're not going to say anything are you?" Jeremy worryingly questioned. Alan shook his head. "Awesome! Thanks, Dr Grant. Word of warning though, you ever go on a date with Dr Collins, be careful man, cause she's been into some weird shit!"

Dr Maria Collins had in fact pursued Alan on a number of occasions. The mathematician was petite, with flame red hair and wore bright pink lipstick that suggested she wasn't quite aware of colour clashing. She was an attractive lady, if not stunning, and when Alan first met her she came over as sweet, thoughtful and almost shy. It wasn't until several months had surpassed and it seemed that everywhere he went, Maria would coincidently be there. Lingering against door frames, her gaze getting for intense each week, that he began to think he had a problem on his hands. She laughed at every word he said, not just a polite giggle, but a full-on throaty roar that attracted attention from anyone in a five mile radius. Thankfully for Alan, a new professor started in the Math department not long after and Maria, bored of the palaeontologist's rejections, clung on to the unsuspecting new faculty member, like a barnacle onto a boat. Poor bastard.

"Well, thank you for the advice Mr. Winters, but I really should be getting on," Alan signalled a stack of essays that were due for marking on the desk. They didn't belong to him, probably the property of some poor, overworked research assistant who was now frantically searching for them, forgetting that they'd taken a seminar in that room this morning. Jeremy wasn't to know that the pile of work didn't belong to him though, and he had no qualms about exploiting guilt from the student if it meant getting him out of the room as soon as was earthly possible.

Jeremy wasn't about to be put off that easily though. "But Dr. Grant, that's not all we found out about InGen! There weren't just old files in there, but new ones, involving property and trusts and crap like that. I didn't really get what they were about, but Todd's girlfriend, Abby, is pre-law, and she said…"

Alan was tired of this now and stopped the boy in his monologue. "Look Jeremy, I appreciate your enthusiasm, I do, but if you want to talk about Jurassic Park, Isla Nublar, Sorna, InGen, or anyone else that had a hand in creating animals for monetary gain, then you've come to the wrong place. I have no interest in thinking, talking, debating or listening to anything about them. That was a very small part of my life that is thankfully closed. John Hammond cut every corner in the business, so I'm not surprised you've found anomalies on the way. If you're really interested in the topic then I suggest you go out and read Ian Malcom's book, or Dr Harding's. Both go into a lot of detail about their time on the islands. Now, if there was nothing else?"

The student looked dejected. Alan quite liked the kid, he at least came to the university to achieve something other than getting laid and getting drunk every evening. Jeremy plodded towards the door, stopped and turned around.

"Not for nothing, , but I have read their books, and the one by that Van Owen douche. It just seems to me that the people who would have had the most insightful things to say about the island…well…those were the ones who didn't really say anything."

With that, Jeremy turned around and headed out of the classroom, leaving Alan alone with his thoughts. He sat back down at the large mahogany desk, settled his elbows firmly down and put his hands over his face. He'd lied to the boy. Jurassic Park, InGen, Nublar, Sorna; they were not just a small part of his life. They had dominated the last decade. It wasn't over. It was never over. Alan heard someone re-enter the lecture theatre. Jeremy must have thought of another few questions he could plague him with.

"Mr Winters, I've said all I'm going to say on the subject," Alan responded, but as he took his hands away from his face, he was surprised to see that it was two men standing in front of him. One of the men was tall, well built, someone who clearly spent time in the gym. His buzz cut and straight posture suggested a military background. He stood slightly behind the other man, suggesting that he wasn't the superior in this little duo. The man in front was dressed in a suit; expensive too, Alan thought, even with his limited knowledge. Maybe Saville Row, but certainly it was tailor made, not off the rack. The man was of average height, but his hunched shoulders and broad stomach made him look shorter than he was.

"Dr Grant, I presume?" the smaller man enquired. Alan nodded, even though he had a feeling that these men didn't need to ask him. They certainly weren't students or faculty, and a little part of Alan was intrigued to find out who they were, although his better angels were shouting at him to run as far away as possible.

"Can I help you, gentleman?" Alan asked the strangers.

"Dr. Grant, my name is Mr Evers, and this is my…colleague, Robert Webber," the suited man replied, pointing to the taller man who was more casually dressed in jeans and a sports jacket. "We have a proposition for you, a job opportunity, and were hoping that we could steal just a few moments of your time."

Alan looked warily at the man, recognising the smarmy grin and over the top politeness as someone who wanted to talk business.

"I only have a minute gentleman, as you can see I have a lot to be getting on with," Alan answered, again, pointing to the large stack of papers on his desk and using them for a false excuse.

Peter Evers pulled up a rickety stool situated at the front of the classroom, grimaced as he dusted off the seat, as if disgusted by the residue of teenagers and education, and gently perched himself on it before returning his snarl back to the fixed smile. Alan glanced at Webber who continued to look straight ahead without so much as a twitch. He supposed that the broad shouldered man would still be standing there, still as a statue, on Monday morning unless told to move by his boss.

"Alan," Peter smarmed, "May I call you, Alan?"

Before Alan could motion an answer Peter continued on anyway.

"Let me first tell you about myself. I'll be quick, don't worry! I understand how demanding a profession like yours must be, inspiring young minds and all!" With that comment, Peter broke out into a laugh which to Alan sounded like a tortoise with a bad cough.

The rest of the room was silent. "Well, I'm part of a family business, Evercom, perhaps you've heard of us?" Alan shook his head. "Ah, well, you have now! Myself and my two brothers run it. My father wanted it to remain in the control of relatives. You know how the ethos of companies can change if they get into the wrong hands?"

Alan knew all about companies abusing their responsibilities at the hands of power hungry executives. He wasn't entirely sure he wasn't sat in front of one now.

"We run a property investment company you see. We buy land cheap, usually it's part of an estate, the owner has sadly passed away and the poor families turn to us to take the grounds off their hands."

Said the spider to the fly, Alan thought.

"Well, anyway, some of this land is small, perhaps farmland that we can turn into accommodation to house poor families, or retail parks to help boost economies."

More like destroy conservation areas to build high class apartments for the super rich, Alan thought, or ruin local small businesses with big shopping malls filled with generic brands and franchises.

Peter leaned in closer, "Sometimes, it's land of a much more substantial scale. We've been known to practically renovate whole towns! Or huge portions of land, sometimes which have been on the mainland, and sometimes not. The ones I want to talk to you about, aren't on the mainland. They are islands."

Alan's brain suddenly clicked into gear as he realised what this man had come here to talk to him about. "Let me guess. These islands you've acquired access to. They just happen to be off the coast of Costa Rica, don't they?"

Mr Evers' forced smile slipped slightly, annoyed that Alan had figured it out before he had reached the end of his salesman's spiel.

"Yes, Dr. Grant," Peter said, staring Alan in the eyes. "They are."

Alan stood up and rolled his eyes, "Well, I think you've had a wasted trip, gentleman. I don't want to know anything about those islands."

"Sit back down, Dr Grant. I haven't even told you why I'm here," Alan remained standing. "Sit back down, or Webber here will come and help you into your chair."

There was a sense of tension in the air now. Alan glanced at the motionless man and thought about whether he could overpower him. Alan decided not to risk it. Even if he had been twenty years younger, the larger man was still built like a brick wall. He didn't know for sure, but he had a feeling that Webber wasn't the only weapon in Peter Evers' possession either.

Alan returned to his seat and Peter's oily grin returned, pleased with his own power. "Excellent. Now let me explain why we need your services, Dr Grant. We are having some…problems…on the Island. Don't get me wrong, we've hired the best and the brightest for most things, and the place is really thriving. I think you know what I mean when I tell you we have all the 'animals' under control."

Animals. Yeah, Alan knew exactly what that meant. He'd tried to keep his mind away from the islands since his last visit, but he couldn't help but take an interest in what had happened after he'd been rescued for a second time. As far as he was aware, there was a stand-off between the US and Costa Rica governments and InGen about the ownership of the land and what should happen to it. All the intelligence coming out of those discussions was that the dinosaurs had all been destroyed. Apparently he had heard wrong.

"You've been to the island," Peter continued. "You've seen these animals up close. You are the best and the brightest and we need you."

Alan leant forward. Looked at the man straight in the eye, "No."

"I thought you may be reluctant, Dr Grant, so we of course will provide you with some incentives."

Peter Evers nodded to Webber, who marched forward and put the briefcase on the desk. He tapped in the code and released the lock. He opened the case to show Alan an inside filled with $100 bills. There had to be almost a million bucks in that case. He felt like he was stuck in the middle of a gangster novel.

Webber closed the case and placed a brown folder on top of it. He pushed it towards Alan, motioning for him to read it. Alan was starting to wonder whether the mute man would only talk if Peter let him. Alan opened the folder and glanced at the first page which read 'Isla Nublar'.

He'd had enough. Alan slammed the folder shut. He didn't want to know any more. Aggressively, he pushed the briefcase and the folder back the other way. "I said no, gentleman. Now if you don't mind, I have work to do here. Please, if you could show yourself out."

Alan sat back down at his desk. It was now a stand-off, he realised. He was holding his breath, hoping the two men would leave. Peter Evers was looking him in the eye, all trace of a smile, fake or otherwise, vanished from his face. It was instead replaced by a grimace. Suddenly, the suited man broke out into a laugh. Not the fake tortoise hacking from before, but this time a genuine laugh, like he was the villain in a superhero movie.

"Oh, dear Dr. Grant," Peter wiped his eyes as his laughter faded, "What a wonderful performance. I have to hand it to you, I almost bought the act. 'Dedicated university lecturer turns down handfuls of cash to devote his life to his beloved students'," he mocked, as he rolled his eyes. "Please, Alan, don't insult my intelligence, and I won't insult yours. You think I don't know all about you?"

Alan was now the one with the grimace on his face. He suspected that Peter Evers had done his homework on him. If Jeremy's friend could access confidential and sealed files, then he had no doubt that the man in front of him, that seemed to just throw money around, travel with a trained mercenary who looked like he could break Alan's bones just by thinking about it, and could hire 'the best and the brightest' at the blink of an eye, could probably manage to find a way past Mrs. Spencer, the frail old Personnel Manager's security systems. Her computer password was her cat's name, for crying out loud. Alan had found that out by just standing next to her, as she read it out while typing it in.

"Oh, yes Dr Grant," Peter continued, "I know all about you. For one, the pile of essays on your desk aren't yours. They belong to a research assistant in the Bio Medical Science department called Anne Grisham. Pretty little thing, only in her thirties, all petite and perky."

Alan vaguely remembered the woman. He tried to avoid most the faculty at all cost, with just a few that he was close to. Although, Alan's standards of closeness was just someone he could sit next to at mandatory university social functions.

"Yes, lovely little Annie is rather taken with you, Dr Grant," Peter growled unrelentingly. "You see, she didn't actually leave those there by accident. She was rather hoping that you'd find them and bring them back to her. Bless her, she's rather young and thinks if she could just get your attention then you'd fall hopelessly in love with her. Well, we know better don't we?"

Alan thought about getting up and leaving, but a stern look from Webber suggested that Peter was far from done with his monologue and that he should sit down and shut up, if he knew what was good for him. If there was one thing Alan hated more than listening to people drone on, it was listening to them talk about him.

"In fact Alan, you've only had the two significant relationships in your life. The first was in your early twenties, when you were apparently young and naïve. Those were the days, huh?" Peter grinned "You had a loving girlfriend, Amy Novak. You were both students together, your eyes met over some dusty dinosaur bone, I'm sure. Then after university you moved in together and lived happily ever after. Quite the fairytale!"

Gritting his teeth, Alan sat through this tirade. The man had done his research. It wasn't an easy thing to listen to a stranger try and recount your life. Deep down though, Alan knew that he couldn't say anything that would hurt more than actually living through the worst moments of his life.

"Except there was no happy ending, was there? Otherwise you and Amy would be off in suburbia right now, painting a white picket fence and bouncing bonny grandchildren on your knee. No, I suppose that could never really happen once you found out that dear, sweet Amy was actually screwing your best friend! Ha!"

As he glanced up, Alan thought he saw Webber shift slightly at that last comment. He quickly dismissed it from his mind though. Or maybe his life was so pathetic that it could even move a mercenary to tears. That would be a depressing thought. He actually hadn't properly thought about Amy in years. While what he went through at the time was difficult, it was something he had long forgotten and forgiven. They were all kids at the time. His heart had been broken a lot more since then and it had remained that way.

"Yes, Terry and Amy rode off into the sunset. I mean, how were you to know they'd been having an affair. It's easy to miss your girlfriend sleeping with your closest friend only two months after you started dating her. Their relationship went on for years, Alan!"

Peter wasn't telling Alan anything he didn't know. He just sat back and let the man continue.

"So once bitten twice shy, eh? You didn't have a relationship for years after! That must have really hurt you, really made you distrustful of other people. Although, I suppose your Daddy issues didn't help either…" Peter tailed off, looking at Alan for a reaction.

He almost got one. Alan didn't want to talk about his father, and he certainly didn't want anyone else to either.

Peter smirked, "Well, we'll leave Mr Grant Senior to another time perhaps. I don't think we have enough hours in the day to pull at that thread. So, poor Dr. Grant, alone for years, literally out in the desert! Then along comes Ms. Sattler."

Alan tried not to flinch at Ellie's name. He figured that no reaction seemed to work best with this bastard.

"It's an age old story. Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love with girl. Boy takes girl to an island and almost gets her killed by dinosaurs. Really, just your average love story. Until you get to the part where girl goes and marries a lawyer and pops out two kids," Peter squinted his eyes, revelling in his malicious storytelling. "I do like a twist in the tale."

Alan silently chuckled to himself. This man knew nothing, not really. The things that happened couldn't be accessed by breaking into computers or talking to nosy neighbours. These were things that were locked in his heart and his head.

"After that, there's been no one. Well, I say no one. It would be fair to say you have 'slutted' it about town, Dr Grant," Kenneth stated, screwing up his nose. "Who needs love, eh, when you've got students and researchers throwing themselves at you left, right and centre? Although, I can't say I see why. It's not as though you have any money is it? Which is strange for a man like yourself who's sold themselves twice to go to an island containing dinosaurs. Oh, yes, I know, the first time you didn't know the dinosaurs were going to be there and the second time you were misled. The point is though, on both occasions, you never gave the money back."

Peter sat back down on the stool, and Alan wondered if he was done with the biography of his life.

"The fact is Dr. Grant, I'm not leaving you misinformed like John Hammond did. I'll let you know exactly what's on the Island. You can have all the details of the security systems in place. Anything you want changed, we'll do it. Anything you want put in, then we'll do it. We aren't misleading you like the Kirbys. I won't drag you to the island and throw you out of a plane. Everything we want you to do, we'll let you know right now. We've got detailed lists of every animal on that island, their behaviour and their heath. You won't be alone on the island. It's fully operational and fully staffed. This isn't a rescue mission and you aren't being used as a guinea pig for some cheap and tacky theme park."

Alan squinted his eyes at Peter Evers. He knew what the man said was true.

"We know you hate your job, Alan," Peter continued. "That you can't stand the students, you despise your fellow staff members, that you do the minimal amount of work to actually keep your job. We know you're only here because it just about pays the bills. That you threw all the money, every red cent you ever had, into the dig sites because the funding dried up. Here's where we can help. This is a week's work. You come to the island with us. You can take that briefcase full of cash, deposit it before we even leave the ground. Then, on your return we're going to give you another one of those briefcases, or a cheque if you prefer, I know how funny these banks can get, and you can quit this shitty place and go dig for dinosaurs to your heart's content! How's that grab you?"

Alan's lip quirked into a smile on the left side of his mouth. Peter was clearly done with the pitch and was now expecting Alan to fall at his side and take the money. He stood up.

"Gentleman, I want to thank you for your offer, but again I must say no," Alan said in a calm and clear voice.

"Now, just you hang on…" Peter interrupted, his round face warming up with frustration, like a pickled beetroot.

"No, Mr. Evers, you've said your piece!" Alan stated raising his voice, just slightly, "You think you know so much about me? You don't. 'On my return?' What on this earth makes you think I would come back in one piece? You can have all the safety features in the world, all the security; it doesn't change anything. I've heard it all before. In fact, I've heard it twice before! You think you can throw money at me, but it won't make a difference. Not now. Not at this point in my life. You think you can threaten me to go. I'm sure that's what will come next. The threats against my life, against my friends and family. Fine. Threaten away. I have no life, no friends and no family, as you, sir, have just stated. So if you want to kidnap me, take me away to the Island, do it. But let me tell you this, once I'm there I will do everything in my power to take down your business, even if it means I get killed in the process."

Alan leaned in now, displaying his authority, "Because, gentlemen. I have nothing to lose."

Alan stared into Peter Evers' cold, grey eyes, unable to truly predict how the steely businessman would react to his outburst. There was a slight wrinkle at the corner of the business man's eye as it began to twitch.

"Okay, Dr Grant," Evers slurred, as he stood up off the creaking stool. He nodded towards Webber, who moved out of his eerie stillness to collect the briefcase and the folder from the desk. "I said I wouldn't force _you_ to come, and I'm a man of my word."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Alan leaned back from his poised position at the desk. It had seemed almost too easy. He watched as Webber nodded at him and guided Evers towards the door. Suddenly, the smaller man stopped and turned to face the palaeontologist.

"I'm sorry we couldn't do business this time, Dr Grant," Evers stated with false regret. "As much as my father wanted you to fill the position, there are others with your 'unique' experience of the islands. I'll just have to ask one of them."

With a sly grin, Peter Evers disappeared from the room, tailed by his unlikely, towering minder. Grant couldn't help but linger on the man's closing statement. All the names of the people who had made it off the islands ran through Alan's head. His mind stopped on one though. The only one that really mattered. He shook off the thought. They wouldn't go to her, she was more notoriously silent about the events of Jurassic Park than he was. Anyway, even if they did go to her, she wouldn't say yes. She certainly didn't need the money, or the fame, and was by far too bright to even think about going back.


	4. Chapter 4

**September 1989**

Glowing down upon the desert land, Alan gazed at the cobalt blue sky as the stinging heat from the sun thrust itself upon his neck. He grabbed the battered, army green sun hat from beside him, shook the falling grains of sand from it, and reluctantly pulled it down on his head. Without seeing his reflection, he knew it made him look like his Great Aunt Miriam, but he was also aware that the late summer Montana sun was not to be messed with. One of these days he'd get around to buying a decent hat, rather than just borrowing and losing different shapes and styles of head gear from people at the site.

A voice carried over on the slight, summer breeze. Alan gazed to his left and saw a small, stocky man waving at him. Shit. The new students arrived today. As Dr Grant glanced down at his watch, he realised that he was supposed to be back at the main camp almost an hour ago. Sighing, he pulled himself up onto his feet and held his hand up, signalling he had seen the man gesticulating manically at him. He looked at the dig site, annoyed that he would have to leave and nodded to his colleagues that were still working, motioning for them to continue the work.

As Dr Grant approached the flapping man, he could see the furrows of his forehead. Mason Fowler oversaw the finances of the dig and Alan often found him in his trailer, head buried in account books, tapping furiously away at a calculator. The site received a lot of money from various universities and colleges from around the country for their students to attend a training placement at the site. They had the personnel and land to ensure the highest quality training, and as such were paid a substantial amount by the institutions to mentor and train the students, providing them with the most thorough experience possible. Alan knew that the universities would certainly have something to say if they were to receive feedback from the trainees about being left to wait for their induction, roasting in the heat.

"It's past eleven and I've got five students boiling away like lobsters in the midday sun," Mason started bleating, as Alan approached. The older man looked a blushing shade of pink himself.

"Calm down, Mase," Alan replied, handing the other man his handkerchief to wipe his dripping brow. "You'll pass out in this heat. Especially with your Maine roots. Where's your hat?"

Glaring upwards, Mason gestured to the offending item on the top of Dr Grant's head. Alan felt himself go a slightly sheepish pink. "Ahh…yeah, sorry about that," he replied with a lopsided smirk, as he removed the sun hat and placed it upon the other man's thinning hair. "Anyway, if the kids can't take sitting under a canopy for thirty minutes, nibbling on some of Sue's sandwiches, then they're probably not gonna handle the next few weeks all that well, " he continued, bringing the conversation back to the reason they were bickering in the first place.

"They're not exactly kids, Alan," Mason responded, rolling his eyes at his colleague's continued distaste for this part of his job. "There's no first year undergrads this time, so you can leave your disgruntled and scary professor act in the sand, thank you very much!"

At hearing that news, Alan felt a small sense of relief as he made his way to the Jeep. It wasn't that he hated teaching; just that he hated teaching those students fresh from high school, who still required babysitting and needed his approval every minute of the day. Sure, all the trainees still had that to a certain degree, even the PhD students who were experienced professionals in their field, but at least they had a little initiative. Last year they'd almost lost a contract with a university when he'd made a student cry by shouting at him. In his defence, the eighteen year old kid had messed up the simplest of tasks and cost them a whole day's work. Mason had to take the kid into the medical trailer and spent three hours calming him down and convincing him that there was no need to contact his course coordinator.

Alan jumped into the passenger seat of Mason's car, ready for the short drive back to camp. As much as he made his friend's life difficult, he knew that Fowler was right. They did need the money for the dig. Donations were sporadic at best, and running a whole site without knowing when you were going to make more money was a stressful situation. It was also a part of the job, but Alan knew that a consistent amount of money coming in every period helped sustain the work and gave Mason a decent night's sleep. As long as this batch of students didn't touch anything they weren't supposed to, and kept out of his way, he could put up with them for a few weeks.

As the Jeep neared the camp, Alan could make out the tents and trailers that made up the residence and workspace of the workers and volunteers of the dig site. At the end of one site, was a large white tent, serving as a mess hall, meeting room, lecture theatre or whatever else was needed.

Mason pulled the car into a space next to Alan's own battered Jeep. He'd caught a lift up to the site with Josh, one of his more conscientious workers. He knew leaving the dig in his hands gave him piece of mind, but he'd still rather be up there than scoping out the new recruits. The two men made their way into the tent. Alan glanced around at the small group of people that had littered the inside. Sitting at one table were three guys, in their early twenties, if he were to guess, supping on a beer each, laughing and joking like this was a Club Med vacation. Great. They were going to turn his site into a frat party. It wasn't as though Alan and the rest of the crew didn't spend time unwinding with a beer and some music at the end of a long day; but certainly he expected more of the new recruits to at least appear professional.

Glancing around Alan saw a young blonde woman, glasses perched on her nose, one hand threaded through her hair and the other resting on her chin as she absentmindedly nibbled her index finger. She was glancing down, enthralled in a book. Next to her, a short lady with frizzy brown hair was slouched in her chair frustratingly swatting at a fly while looking like she was going to pass out from the heat.

Mason cleared his throat, "Right, ladies and gentleman, if I could have your attention," he chirped in a cheerful voice, passing Alan a bottle of water from the cooler as he spoke.

Alan perched himself on the edge of the table, resting his leg on the bench as he unscrewed his bottle and took a long sip. Even in the relative coolness of the canopy tent, the beads of sweat on his forehead were relentless. Like he suspected, the Frat Pack were taking their time in finishing their conversation and still weren't paying attention. Frizzy Flyswatter was still swiping away furiously, but Blonde Glasses had closed her book and was now looking towards them. At him, specifically, with a pure and positive smile on her face. Alan blamed the weather for an increase of heat in his cheeks but couldn't help himself at giving a small twitch of the lips back, as he started to pick at the label of his bottle.

"Boys, come on please, Dr Grant's a busy man and has to get back to work," Mason stated, trying to put on a stern front. Alan already had little respect for the young men.

"Welcome," Alan started, "I'm Alan Grant and I'm pleased to have you on my site." He was neither pleased, nor he thought a very welcoming sight, but he knew Mason thought first impressions counted. "Mr. Fowler will go through all the details of your induction with you this afternoon, I'm sure, but I just wanted to meet you and let you know some of my expectations."

Alan could feel Mason tense up at the side of him, as if willing him to leave it there while no one was in tears. Alan glanced at his friend, hoping that he could reassure him. He and Mason had countless arguments about this. He didn't understand how Mason thought he was going to turn into a giant teddy bear, just because he had students around him.

"Firstly," he said, speaking up a little so they could all hear him over Frizzy Flyswatter's frantic fanning with a magazine. "I expect you all to be here at 9am sharp, ready to go. We don't have time to keep on shuttling back and forth to collect latecomers. Either you're here at nine, or you might as well go home, because you won't be allowed on the dig site that day."

Alan could see the Frat Pack glance at each other. Apparently work was going to cut into their hangover time. "Secondly," he continued, "Once on the dig site, you don't do anything, you don't touch anything, you don't even breathe on anything unless you've been asked to by me or one of my crew. This is not negotiable. You do as you're asked otherwise you're off the site and you'll spend the rest of your time with us working as a runner and file clerk."

With that, Frizzy Flyswatter slowly stopped her fanning and looked like she was going to vomit. The Frat Pack's loud and boorish attitudes had now turned meek and submissive. Blonde Glasses was still looking directly at him and had gone back to gently nibbling her finger. She didn't look afraid, in fact she seemed to find his whole speech a little amusing, if the twinkle in her eye was anything to go by.

"Lastly," Alan sighed, replacing the cap on his water and placing the bottle and the peeled label down on the table. "Of course we want you to ask questions and learn while you are here, but at the same time, this isn't a nursery. My staff and I aren't here to hold your hand and look over your shoulder every minute of the day. We will give you a task and expect you to show some independence with doing it. No one's going to be bringing around trays of water and canapés; it's your job to ensure you take care of yourself. The heat is not sympathetic, don't come crying to us if you've passed out because you didn't have the sense to wear a hat. "

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mason stifle a laugh with a poorly disguised cough as he gently pulled down his own recently recovered hat. "Right," Alan exclaimed as he pulled himself off the bench and made his way toward the edge of the tent. "Good luck." With that he made his exit and left Mason to spend the afternoon with the students. The overwhelming heat hit the back of his head after only a few strides and he instantly regretted not stealing back Mason's hat for the afternoon.

 **The next day**

 **7.30am**

Alan gently parked his Jeep and exited the car. He had already been at the site for a few hours this morning, basking in the quiet luxury of his work. He'd popped back to the base to have a quick glance at the monthly accounts and he started to stride towards Mason's accommodation. He quickly glanced towards the mess tent, noticing that someone was already in there. He slowly stepped towards the area until he recognised that it was one of the students. Against his better judgement, he entered underneath the canopy.

"Hi", he quietly said, careful not to startle Blonde Glasses, who again had her head in a book. He didn't quite meet his objective, as she jumped a little, eyes wide until she slowly recognised where the voice had come from. She took off her glasses and used the weight of them to keep her book open on the right page and gave him a gleaming smile.

"Hey," she replied softly. They seemed to be looking at each other forever, until Alan finally snapped out of it.

"So, what are you reading?" he asked, hoping to get a semblance of professionalism back into the encounter.

She picked up her glasses and showed him the front cover of the book entitled 'The Key Features of Evolution' by J.L Hadley. Alan smirked, "An excellent choice! James does a great job at taking a quantitative approach to taxonomic and morphologic rates of evolution."

Ellie frowned slightly at his response, "To be honest, I'm not impressed. He seems to be coat-tailing on Lakeland Smith's ideas behind species extinctions and their causes, without the body of knowledge of fossil life." Alan raised his eyebrows at her lack of fear in delivering her viewpoint, smirked and nodded his head.

"That's an interesting perspective, Miss…" Alan tailed off, slightly panicking that he should know the young woman's name.

"Sattler," she replied, wiping her hand against her top before holding it out to him. "Ellie," she continued slightly shyly. Alan gingerly took her hand and softly shook, holding on a moment too long before releasing it.

"Alan," he responded to her introduction. She grinned back at him, seemingly finding amusement in his name. He wrinkled his forehead in confusion.

"Yes, I know, "she replied. "I picked up that much from your whirlwind of an introduction yesterday. Can I ask you? Is it by chance that you try to scare everyone in a ten-mile radius?"

"No, it's a deliberate effort," Alan said, playing along with her teasing. "I try to get at least one person to quit before the day's out. Did it work?

"Well, Austin, Lloyd and Zach, weren't entirely impressed with you, but then I think you took their failed attempt at mock masculinity down a peg or two," Ellie retorted, brushing her fringe out of her face. "And I think Rebecca is more likely to quit due to a combination of allergies, heat stroke and giant monster bug attacks than your speeches. So unfortunately, you're stuck with all of us."

Alan was beginning to think that it would be worth it. Ellie was bright and funny and knew what she was talking about. He felt comfortable chatting with her; usually he loathed having to make conversation with anyone new. Or really anyone at all. "So you weren't suitably intimidated by my induction speech then?" he retorted.

Ellie huffed out a laugh, "No, no. I've heard a lot of induction speeches through my under grad and masters. I'm a little immune to them now. Although, I think I liked yours best. You focused on what you expect. A lot of other site runners name check other people in the business. Try to convince us they're so much better!"

"Oh really?" said Alan, a little surprised at her candour. He leaned in conspiratorially, "I ever get mentioned?"

"Always," Ellie grinned as she leaned in closer. "I think your students aren't the only ones a little intimated by you."

"But not you," he responded, with more of a statement than a question.

Ellie leaned back in her chair, slightly biting at her lip, before looking Alan straight in the eyes, "No. Not me."

Alan cleared his throat, before standing up and brushing imaginary lint of his shirt. "So…uh… Ms Sattler," he started, trying to get a semblance of professionalism back into the conversation. This woman was slightly ensorcelling him already, after only a few minutes conversation and he could hear Mason's voice in his head begging him to retreat now, before it was too late. "I have to say I'm impressed so far with your punctuality and your, uh, reading…that's also good." Alan knew he was scrambling now and by the twinkle in Ellie's eye he had his suspicions she knew too. He nodded his head at her as a signifier of his goodbye and turned towards the exit of the tent.

"Hey, one second!" Ellie called out, prompting Alan to stop his retreat. He turned back around to find her rattling around a brown bag. She removed the item she was looking for and gently walked up to Alan, holding out her hand.

"For you," she said, motioning to the light-tan fedora she was holding. "I wouldn't want you to pass out in the unsympathetic heat," she smirked, mimicking his words from yesterday. "Go on, try it on."

Alan tentatively took the hat. His mind was scrabbling for an appropriate regulation about accepting gifts from students, "Ms Sattler, this really is very kind, but I'm not sure if…"

"It's a hat, Dr Grant, " she said, emphasising the formality of his name. "Not a briefcase full of money."

Ellie folded her arms as a signal to Alan that she wasn't going to take the hat back. Alan slightly chuckled as he rested the hat on his head. "You are very tenacious, Ellie. How does it look?"

Stepping forward, Ellie slightly adjusted the fedora. "It looks great, Alan."


	5. Chapter 5

**October 2005**

Jiggling the key in the lock, Elizabeth Adams cursed under her breath as the door to her boss' office stuttered open. Hands full of bags and steaming cups of coffee, she kicked the door closed with her heel. Cursing again when the lock failed to catch and the door bounced back and hit her in the ass, she cautiously placed the coffee container down on her over crowded desk before flopping down in her chair and resting her forehead on the surface in front of her. There was a flash of sudden light and Lizzie squinted her eyes open.

"Sleeping so early?" grinned a blonde woman, standing by the light switch.

"Did I mention the new born baby the couple upstairs have?" Lizzie replied, pulling herself off her chair and shrugging out of her jacket. "Ellie, you would not believe the sounds that come out of this kid's mouth. I'm used to babies; my sister has five children under nine. This spawn of Satan sounds like a wounded animal crossed with a space shuttle taking off."

Dr Ellie Sattler rolled her eyes at her assistant, tweaking the position of the photo frames on her desk, "Lizzie, never say again that your drama degree is worthless. My entertainment from the daily morning melodrama was worth your tuition alone."

The younger woman smiled shyly. Despite appearances, she wasn't ashamed of her degree, she had worked hard during her college years to graduate with honours. However, now working with world class scientists around her, she always dreaded the inevitable questions about her university education. She was proud of where she was in her career and loved her job working for Dr Sattler, but she could see the look behind some of her colleagues' eyes that suggested there were more qualified applicants for the job. Lizzie didn't know what Ellie had seen in her, but she worked hard every day to make sure she didn't let her down.

"Can you please pick up the phone and tell my mother that?" Lizzie replied. "Because as far as she's concerned, I spent four years pretending to be a tree."

Ellie giggled, "She should get together with my mother. She still tells the neighbours that I spend my days digging up the Loch Ness Monster."

"Wait, that's not what we're doing?" Lizzie gasped in mock surprise. "Then why were you dressed head to toe in tartan during the charity gala last week?"

"Hey!" Ellie smirked, as she tapped her assistant on the head with the nearest folder. "That was one bad fashion choice, and it wasn't all tartan, there was just a little on the skirt. All this coming from the girl who has dresses with kittens on them."

Lizzie stuck her tongue out, "I'll have you know that prints are the next big thing for the Spring/Summer season!" The two women grinned at each other, accepting that the playful bickering was over for now. "Now, if you are done sparring maybe we can get to the important part of the morning. Bagels."

The brunette snatched the paper bag from her desk, peered in and then threw it back down. "Poppy seed!" Lizzie exclaimed in frustration. "They gave us poppy seed bagels. I get the same order five times a week, how can they mess that up?"

"Leave it. It won't hurt to have poppy seed bagels once." Ellie responded, taking her phone out of her bag and checking for messages.

"When we're spending the rest of the day picking them out of our teeth, it'll hurt," Lizzy vehemently stated, grabbing her jacket and pulling it back on. "When you're in a meeting with the Dean this afternoon, discussing department funding with black specks in your teeth, it'll hurt. No, today it's poppy seeds, tomorrow it's light cream cheese instead of full fat. I'll be back in literally five minutes. I got all the assignment grades inputted and filed late last night, I'll start with the curriculum update when I get back."

Ellie shook her head and smiled to herself. Lizzie may seem to other people like she flaked out, but she knew different. She kept the office well run and organised and had an eidetic memory where her diary was concerned. Her assistant cheered her up when she was low, and encouraged her at a time when her confidence was diminished.

"Okay, but pick up some cinnamon rolls as well. I've got a sweet tooth this morning," Ellie replied, "Call me if they don't have them though. Last time you brought me back something with walnuts." she said, scrunching up her face.

Lizzie grinned back, "Hey, it's not my fault you have the taste buds of a six year old! My phone's dead, so you'll just have to cross your fingers and toes that I bring back something you find scrumptious. Or maybe someone!"

"Oh no, take my phone," she said, waving it towards Lizzie. " That way I know you're not going to bring back some dubious pastry or suspect man, both of which I would find unpalatable."

"Well, maybe sometimes something is better than nothing," Lizzie said, taking the phone. "You sure you want me to call and not just surprise you?"

Ellie folded her arms and tilted her head at her assistant, "Okay, okay! I know that look," Lizzie replied, putting her hands in the air in submission. "I promise to call before bringing back anything or anyone for you to devour."

With a final grin and wave of her hand, Lizzie left the office with as much furore as she had entered. Ellie sat down at her seat with a sigh. It was still early, the sun was barely peeking through and there was still a faint twinkle of the stars in the sky. She decided to catch up with some reading while waiting for Lizzie to return. They started each day by going through the diary, making sure that Ellie understood each commitment and had them fresh in her mind. She sometimes felt stifled in her tiny cramped office, with paperwork and modules cluttered up in front of her. Ellie was good at being organised and she did enjoy her work, but there were times when she gazed wistfully out the window. It showed her the possibility of freedom and the thought of that made her chest unconstrict just a little.

Suddenly, there was a loud rap on the door, waking Ellie from her day dream. She shuffled in her chair, slightly unnerved by the sudden sound at this hour. Perhaps the cleaners were making their early morning rounds. There was another knock, sounding even more insistant.

"Come in," she replied to the second thump. Ellie wrinkled her brow when the source of the sound stepped though. In came a large, well-built man with impeccable posture. It took Ellie a moment to notice he was not the only inhabitant. The muscled man quickly stood aside to reveal a much smaller and older man, with thinning hair and narrow eyes, carrying a large briefcase.

"Can I help you?" Ellie asked. She didn't recognise them as university staff, although sometimes it would take her a while to meet new faculty. They certainly weren't students; that much she was sure of.

The larger man stood with his back against the wall, eyes straight forward, like he was guarding her office. Ellie shivered at the thought that he was probably trying to keep her from going out, rather than anything else coming in.

"Good morning to you, Mrs Degler," the little man started. "I hope we find you well today." Ellie didn't trust his smirk and knew from the outset he was trying to gain the upper hand with her.

"It's Dr. Sattler, as I'm sure you can see from the large name plate in front of you," Ellie said with gritted teeth, standing so she could gain some control over the situation. "Even if you missed that, I'm sure you'll see it on the door that you'll soon make your way out of. I don't see people without an appointment, gentleman."

Ellie didn't have access to her diary at that second, but she was sure that Lizzie hadn't booked in a consultation with two men, who looked like they were auditioning for remake of ' _Twins',_ at 6.30 in the morning.

"We seem to have got off on the wrong foot, _Dr Sattler_ ," the man continued, with more than a hint of frustration in his voice. "My name is Peter Evers and I would like to offer you a very lucrative and mutually beneficial proposition."

As Evers was speaking, Ellie noticed him nodding towards the other man, who he failed to introduce. The large man strode quickly towards the door, turning the lock and handing a file back to Peter.

"Hey!" Ellie started and reached for her office phone. Lifting the receiver to her ear, her heart sunk when she realised there was no dial tone. Frantically pressing the keys didn't help either. Looking back up, she was repulsed by the smirk on Evers' face. She strode past the man towards the door. A forceful hand grabbed her wrist and spun her around. The military man looked her straight in the eye. "Don't," he muttered quietly. It felt to Ellie that he was warning her rather than threatening her.

"Escort Dr Sattler back to her seat, would you Webber?" Peter spat out with gritted teeth. Ellie still resisted, as Webber dragged her and sat her back down behind her desk. She rubbed a little at the blossoming red mark around her arm, but quickly retreated her hand, not wanting to give either of the men the satisfaction of seeing her in pain.

"Here," Peter said, throwing a folder down on the desk. "Take a look."

Ellie opened the folder, recoiling as she noticed the words 'Isla Nublar' on the first page, she continued to read through the documents for several minutes, before slowly closing it back up and looking back at the rotund man staring down at her. She shrugged her shoulders, "And? What response were you looking for from me?"

"Dr Sattler, you saw the deal in there. Any money worries you ever had would be gone, for a few weeks of work," Peter explained, clearly struggling to be persuasive once he had not got the initial response he wanted. "It would provide financial stability for you and your children for a long time. It can't be easy being a single mother."

Ellie took a deep breath and steadied her nerves, "Get out my office now. I don't want anything to do with those islands. Especially now that I've read what you're planning to do!" Peter opened his mouth to interrupt. "No!" Ellie responded, "You don't get to try and coerce or threaten me. I've rejected anything to do with those islands and you must know that. Now if you don't mind, in a minute my assistant will be back. When she finds the door locked and voices inside, she will immediately contact campus security or the police. Get. Out."

Sitting back down at her desk, Ellie could feel her legs shaking, suddenly feeling like they were turning to jelly. She could hear her pulse throb frantically in her ear drums. It felt like her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest. Still, she kept her face steely and unwavering.

Peter stared back at her, also not showing any signs of failure, "Well unfortunately Dr Sattler, you've given us no choice. Webber?"

Robert Webber appeared to give a slight wince, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun.

Ellie huffed at the sight, "Really? You're going to shoot me if I don't agree? You won't make it off campus, and even if you do, you won't get far. "

"It's merely a visual aid, if you will. See Webber isn't the only man of his talents that I have in employment. There are more." Peter stepped forward, with glee in his eyes, "Can I ask, Dr Sattler, do you know at this precise moment where your children are?"

Ellie jumped up and launched herself at Evers, managing a blow to the cheek before she felt her arms being locked behind her back, "What have you done to my children, you son of bitch! If you hurt them, I will kill you!"

Peter gingerly rubbed at his jaw, "Your children are fine. I have some of my men watching them as we speak. All you have to do is come with us for a few days. I'm not a child killer, Ms Sattler; I have no interest in hurting your family, but I will do what's necessary for mine. Now, do we have a deal?"

Lizzie strolled back up the path; her arms laden with sweet and savoury baked goods. She hated to miss too much time out of the office, feeling it was letting Ellie down. She had run back to the bakery as quickly as possible to get her order, cursing the fact that she didn't check the first time. She even resisted flirting with the cute server, just so she wouldn't delay her boss even further. This time they had everything she wanted. She even tripled checked the bags, just to spot for renegade poppy seeds.

As she was about the open the door to the faculty building, she noticed Ellie leaving from the other side of the complex, followed very closely behind by a large man. The pair were followed by a shorter gentleman, who was almost skipping to keep up with his companion's stride. Lizzie was just about to call out to her boss, when Ellie turned and looked at her. There was no smile or wave of recognition. No twinkle of familiarity in her eyes. Her face was blank. Something wasn't right.

Lizzie hurried into the building and quickly opened the office door, dropping the bagels on the floor. Food was the last thing on her mind now. She ran to the phone to ring security. There would be limited staff at this time in the morning, but she knew Big Mike would be finishing off the night shift. She looked at the receiver in surprise. There was nothing, no dial tone. She slammed the phone down in frustration, unsure what to do next.

Scanning around the room in the hope that the answer would pop out at her, she noticed something strange on Ellie's desk. Lizzie knew every inch of this office and there was a folder that definitely wasn't there that morning and definitely didn't belong to the university. She opened the first page, her eyes widening at the content. She scanned the next few pages, before closing it back up again.

As she released the folder, it slipped off the desk and on to the floor. As she crouched down to pick it up, she felt something heavy in her pocket that restricted her movement. Remembering she had Ellie's phone, she lifted it out gratefully. She stilled. She didn't know who to call. Those thugs that had taken her would surely be off campus by now. Would the police help? Would they even believe her? Perhaps she should call Ellie's ex-husband. She knew he worked for the government. But then she also knew some other things that Ellie had told her about him. Tearful confessions of the past, over late-night drinks, detailing life's moments of regret.

Lizzie wasn't one for staying still and doing nothing, Unsure of what else to do, she opened up her boss' list of contacts on the cell phone, hoping that if she scrolled through, someone may jump out at her. She saw the first name on the list and stopped. Should she? Ellie would kill her. After a second of thought, she pressed down on the name and lifted the handset to her ear.


	6. Chapter 6

**October 2005 – Present Day**

With a frustrated sigh, Alan lifted the key out of the lock before trying again to open the door. When he had rented the apartment, the landlord had mentioned it being 'a little temperamental'. What he didn't realise at the time was that he'd practically have to be a safe cracker to enter his own front door. Thankfully on the fourth attempt of trying, the metal clicked into place and the door swung open with a painful creek.

Alan slung the briefcase down onto his dining room table. Well, he supposed it was just a table really, as it certainly wasn't situated in a dining room. The apartment consisted of a small lounge, an even smaller bedroom with an en-suite bathroom, and a positively miniscule kitchen in comparison. He headed straight for that room now, keen to get something to refresh his palate in the warmth. Opening his fridge door, he wasn't surprised to see the light blink on twice, before losing any strength and disappearing altogether. It was probably best that the lacklustre contents weren't highlighted and drawn attention to.

Wrinkling up his nose at the sight and the smell, Alan regretted not picking up any groceries on the way home from work. His mind had been elsewhere this week, not quite being able to forget his visitors from a few days ago. He would be lying if he said he wasn't slightly on edge at the college; although he didn't really expect Peter Evers to be lingering around and jumping out from behind a vending machine in the canteen. There was a niggle in his stomach though. Something twanging at his guts that told him not to rest easy.

There was a half-eaten sandwich prominently standing out as the only form of nourishment in the appliance. Alan decided against it, not feeling any pang of hunger due to the heat and continuing worry. Thankfully, he had the foresight to put a bottle of water into the fridge the night before. He quickly removed it and gladly closed the door on the dark, empty vessel.

He wandered back into the lounge, looking at his briefcase forlornly. The assignments would have to be marked at some point. Not yet though. He paced through the apartment, through the bedroom and into the little bathroom. Although the air was hot and clammy, he turned the shower on to heat up a little, his body not wanting the shock of the cold water today.

Stepping outside the bathroom he glanced around his bedroom, as if looking at it from fresh eyes. There was very little to focus on though. There was a beigeness to it, nothing stood out as retaining character or memories. Alan wasn't sure if it was just the room that was devoid of personality or if he really didn't have much of one. There were items of value in there; not worth much to anyone else of course, but things that meant a lot to him. They were just in a box, closed away and locked inside the small cupboard by the floor. He never looked at them.

After checking the water (which still hadn't warmed at all), he returned into the lounge. The curtains were a garish floral and the sofa looked as if it would have been considered old in 1976. There was a small television set in the corner, which was rarely used and whose remote Alan had never seen. Dominating the room, was the dining room table which was far too large for its purpose and accommodation. Around the old oak table, were scores of books and documents. Some in boxes, but many just scattered around the area. Finally, there was a small, glass coffee table with a landline sitting on top and an answering machine attached. These were all the things he currently had in his life. And most of these came with the apartment.

He clicked open the seal on the bottle of water and took a long sip, refreshing his mouth immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a red light flashing on the answering machine. He wrinkled his brow slightly. He did receive messages once in a while, but they were generally not welcome. The occasional sales call, usually a message from work, reminding him of some function or change in schedule. Not very often, but sometimes, it would be from someone that he knew; an old friend from a dig site or a colleague from a different time. All those calls would start by mentioning how long it had been since they talked and then continue with an offer of meeting up. On a few occasions, Alan took them up on the offer. Most instances he didn't.

He pressed the button on the machine, hearing the tape wind and click into action and a voice appear. Listening to the call, his heart sunk that little bit further. Apparently, he was at the stage of his existence when life insurance companies wouldn't leave him alone. Picking at the label of his bottle in frustration, he lifted himself off the arm of the sofa to make his way to the shower, when a new message broadcast out of the speakers.

"Uh…hi," a voice Alan didn't recognise blurted out. This didn't sound like the confidence of a sales call. "This is a message for Alan Grant. God, I hope the number's right. Um, you don't know me, obviously. My name is Elizabeth and I work with Ellie."

Alan halted in his tracks, turning back around and hurrying to the machine. He crouched in front of it and stared intensely. That gnawing at his stomach had now become a punch right to the centre.

"Ellie Sattler that is…but you probably know that. Or maybe not," the voice continued, clearly as anxious as Alan felt. "The thing is I don't want to worry you, but I think something's happened. She's disappeared. Well not really, because I just saw her leave the office. But it was with these two strange guys and she didn't look happy. I…I think I know where they're taking her. I don't really want to say, in case it's not actually you getting this message. God, I could be talking to some old woman and scaring the bejeesus out of her! I just…I didn't know who else to call. I thought you might believe me. Can you call me back, please? I'm on Ellie's number. I…Hey, what do you want?"

Alan scrambled to his feet, adrenaline pumping through his body. The call had ended suddenly and that was worrying him as well. He tried to have a steady hand as he grabbed the phone from its holder and dialled Ellie's number. She'd changed her number a few years ago. He'd programmed the new digits in, but hadn't planned on using them. Still, he liked the feeling of it in his contacts list. There was no answer, no ringing even; the call just went straight to voicemail. He tried again and then for a third time, but still no response.

He wasn't sure how else he was supposed to reach this Elizabeth. Perhaps on her work phone. He knew that Ellie now worked at a university, but he couldn't remember the name. Hoisting up his confidence, he went into his bedroom. Searching around in the bottom drawer, underneath a pile of socks, he found a small, copper key. He opened up the discreet cupboard by the bed and pulled out a box. His hands were still shaking slightly, but the key turned in the lock easily, as if encouraging him to view the contents. He opened the lid.

This box was always closed for a reason. He didn't like to dwell on the past, whether it be successes or failures. However, he couldn't ever bring himself to shut it out permanently. He pulled out the hat sitting on top, gave it a quick brush off with his hand and set it aside on the bed. He gently rummaged around the other pieces inside the box, trying not to look directly at them, afraid that the wash of memories would hit him like a tidal wave. He didn't have time to be nostalgic now or face the feelings that came with it.

He spotted what he was looking for and grabbed the corner of a small card, wrenching it out. He closed the box back up quickly, for fear of what else would escape, and set it back in the cupboard. He sat down on the bed and read the postcard, composed in a familiar handwriting that made him smile and set a pang of guilt and pain straight to his heart. It was a change of address card from Ellie with her new work details, which had clearly been sent out in bulk to her friends and family. This one had a message on it though, with a cell number scrawled on it. 'Alan, call me x', it simply read. He never did.

He again left the bedroom and stepped into the lounge, heading this time to his briefcase. He pulled his cell phone out and dialled the work number on the card. It didn't ring, it just went straight to the switchboard.

"Good Morning, how can I direct your call?" the perky voice on the line answered.

"Oh, hi, I'm trying to reach Room 203, but the number I dialled sent me right here," Alan said, apologetically.

"Ok, Sir, if you'd just hold, I'll transfer you over to Room 203," she replied. Before Alan could thank her, classical music started ringing thought the ear piece. Alan started pacing, the worst of thoughts going through his mind.

Suddenly the music stopped, and the peppy voice was back speaking to him, "I'm sorry, Sir, but the connection on that line seems to be faulty. I'll put a call into maintenance, but it probably won't be fixed within the next 24 hours. I can take a message and leave it in the room, or offer you an email address if you'd prefer."

Alan sighed, it seemed to be looking less and less promising, "No, thank you," he replied, "I'll try another time." With that he hung up and slid to the floor, putting his head on his knees. Looking between his fingers, he gazed at the address on the postcard. It was perhaps only a six-hour drive away. If he left now, he could be there before morning. It was a long shot, but he didn't know what to do. If he believed the message, then Ellie had gone missing and now he couldn't find the one person who knew about it. Perhaps when he got to the town, he'd find out it was all a big mistake. He hoped so. In his heart though, he knew what had happened.

* * *

The parking lot was almost completely empty, only dimly lit by a few street lights. Alan loosely folded the map and threw it onto the passenger seat, next to his hat. He was in the right place, but the campus was huge and he had no idea where Ellie's office was. He got out the car and shut the door gently, aware of the silence surrounding him. The sun was only just threatening to rise and there was a calmness that only existed before dawn.

As he looked around he could see three large buildings surrounding him. He was just deciding which to try first, when a sudden burst of light in front of him stung his eyes and blocked his view. He lifted his arm up to try and shade out the brightness. It only worked a little, just enough to make out a shadow slowly making its way towards him.

Taking a deep breath, Alan knew he had to make up his mind about his next move. Was this Evers? Had he lured him here under the pretence that Ellie was gone? Should he run away and try and find help or stick it out and try to take on the man in the hopes that Ellie was safe? He knew the option would soon be taken away from him as the footsteps came closer.

Suddenly the light was lowered, and Alan could see the figure in front of him. He was almost surprised to see it wasn't one of the men who had confronted him earlier that week. Standing there instead, was a rather large man, at least a foot taller than Alan, dressed head to toe in navy blue. Taking in the walkie talkie on his belt and the badge on his shirt pocket, he realised that this was just a security guard, not a nefarious businessman trying to lure him away.

"Can I help you, Sir?" the guard asked, and Alan could hear the level of suspicion in his voice. It didn't look good; a middle-aged man lingering around a college car park in the early hours on the morning was bound to raise concerns.

Alan put on his best smile, which he hoped didn't make him look even more suspicious, and took a step toward the guard, "Actually, you can. I received a call from Room 203."

The guard squinted his eyes and put his hand near his belt. Alan was sure that his radio wasn't the only thing he kept there. "It's 4.30 in the morning, Sir. All the office buildings are closed. I'm going to have to ask you to get back in your car and come back at a more reasonable hour."

Alan stilled, not sure what his next move was going to be. The guard clearly wasn't going to retreat until he'd seen the car leave the campus. He decided that he'd go, as requested, find a motel for a few hours and then return to the university at a time when he didn't look like a crazed stalker.

He gave a quick nod to the guard, then turned around to head back to his car. All of a sudden, the bright light was shining in his direction again. "Hey," the guard shouted at him. "Stop and turn around."

Alan paused his path and slowly lifted his hands up to indicate his submission, before cautiously twisting his body back round. He started to wonder how much authority this guard actually had. If he carried on making his way towards the car, would he be tasered and hauled off to university jail? "Is there a problem?" he asked the figure, which was making its way towards him again.

The guard stopped and started squinting at him curiously, "Are you…," he began before trailing off, as if unsure of the question he was going to ask. "Are you Alan Grant?"

Alan's eyes widened at the sound of his name. Was he on a wanted poster up in the security office? Perhaps he should lie and make quickly his way out of this situation. Instead, his curiosity got the better of him and he decided to answer in the affirmative. "Yeah," he said slowly, confirming his identity. "Do we know each other?"

With his response, the guard's demeanour completely changed. He lowered his flashlight, tucking it into his waistband. A huge smile beamed across his face and he stepped forward and grabbed Alan's hand, thrusting his own inside and shaking it vigorously.

"Wow, really. I've got to say, I'm a huge fan, Dr Grant. It really is a pleasure. My name's Mike Parsons. Gee, it really is an absolute honour," the guard said, unable to contain his excitement. Alan was thinking about how to release his grip go from the larger man's hand; he was beginning to lose circulation.

"How exactly do you know me..uh..Mike?" Alan asked curiously. It had been years now since the incident on Sorna and even more time had passed since they returned from Nublar. Still, on occasion there was still the sporadic person on the street who would stop and stare, their brain trying to process where they knew him from. Ultimately, what followed was a tirade of questions he didn't ever want to answer.

"Your book, of course. Well all your books. I just love 'em. I can't get enough," Mike replied. Alan breathed a sigh of both relief and surprise. It was rare that anyone would ever know him from his published work and the grainy black and white photograph inside the front cover.

"I must say, I'm flattered, Mike. Are you…or were you a palaeontology student?" Alan asked, trying not to offend the man, but he didn't know very many security guards that read his work.

"Me? Oh no, no," Mike said, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle. "No, I didn't make it past high school. I've just got an interest, ya know, in dinosaurs and all. Anyways, we get a lot of stuff coming into the office that people have left or dropped. One day, I guess one of the students left a book by this palaeontologist lying about. I thought I'd give it a read. Some nights there's not a lot going on; reading helps to pass the time. I can't say I understand everything, but it's fascinating, ya know? So, I was reading this book, when she walks in and says I shouldn't read that; that the writer was no good. So, she comes back in the next evening, arms full of your books. Said I should start with those."

"She?" Alan asked, though he knew the answer without it being said. There was only one person in the world who that could be.

"Ellie," Mike replied. "I mean, you know her, right? That's who you're here to see in Room 203?"

"Yeah," Alan said with a small smile. "I know her."

"I thought so," Mike said, nodding along with the response. "You being in a similar business and all. And she clearly thinks highly of you. I can tell she's a fan too. She'd come back most evenings on her way out of work and we'd have a little chit chat. She'd explain anything I didn't really understand from your books. No offence!"

Alan waved his hand, dismissing the idea of being offended. This was typical of Ellie. She could get to know and support anyone. She had the ability to make people feel better about themselves. Thinking about her reminded him of why he was standing in this carpark in the first place. He needed to find her. Although he hadn't seen her in several years, he now craved her company, whether she was in danger or not.

"Mike," he started, trying to sound casual. "I wonder if it's possible to get into Ellie's office. I think there's something there she needs me to find."

"Oh," Mike replied, thinking it through. "You know what? As it's you. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. Follow me."

* * *

"Careful of that door. It has a tendency to hit you on the butt," Mike said, entering into the office. Alan cautiously followed him in, gently closing the door behind him. The security guard had led him up to the smallest building on the campus. They had just climbed one flight of stairs before entering a corridor filled with cloned doors. They all had individual numbers on them, with the occupants' names clearly printed in an identical font. As they wandered down the hallway, Mike chatted about his youngest child's recent report card, until finally they reached Room 203. As Mike was looking for the right key to unlock the door, Alan couldn't help but have his eyes linger on the gold lettering reading 'Dr E. Sattler' on the door. He didn't know that she had gone back to her name. He resisted the temptation to touch the lettering, though he wanted to. His mind needed to tangibly trace each letter to feel her presence there.

Now inside the office, Alan noticed the same inscription on a nameplate on the desk by the window. He looked around the office. It was neat and organised; File cabinets, books and folders were all meticulously labelled and organised. A look at the second desk in the room and Alan finally knew who Elizabeth was. She was Ellie's assistant. He took a closer look at her desk. There was a handbag perched on it and a few paper bags strewn messily on the floor. This area seemed to be in stark contrast to the diligent order of the rest of the office. Alan peered into one of the bags. Bagels. It seemed strange to him that someone would just leave their bag on their desk and food on the floor, without returning to pick them up. It seemed like someone had left for a few minutes in a hurry, rather than take off for home at the end of a work day.

"That girl and her bagels," Mike chuckled. "Lizzie always gets them on her way to work. Used to get me one too, but I'm watching my waistline," he continued, patting his stomach. "Never known these girls not to eat them though. I guess they were feeling ill already."

"What do you mean?" Alan enquired, confused by the statement.

"Well, it was this morning, about seven I guess. Yeah, it must have been seven, because it was just before I went home." Mike said, eyeing up the bagels as if he were contemplating devouring one. "I got a call from Personnel. Asked me to come check the office was all locked up because both Lizzie and Ellie had emailed in sick. I guess they must have come down with that bug that's going around. Unlike both of them not to be here, though. Sure is a more miserable place without both of those ladies"

Alan simply nodded his head. Ellie's assistant called his phone and left a message at just before seven the previous morning. He's checked the time stamp on his answering machine. It must have been just after Alan left for work. She certainly didn't sound sick, and she mentioned being at the office. There was a fear in her voice for her boss. She had heard or seen something that clearly troubled her. She was afraid.

A sudden crackling filled the silence of the room. Mike reached around to his belt and brought the radio to his lips. "Damn thing," the guard muttered to Alan. "Sounds like I'm being contacted from Mars, not the other side of the campus." He shook the radio a few times, as if that would solve the connection issue, "Bruce, this is Mike. Everything ok?"

"….Lock…..building too…yesterday..." the distant voice over the receiver replied. Mike shook the radio again, but only static appeared out. "Oh man," he said, clearly frustrated with the equipment. "Doctor Grant, I'm going to have to go check this out. I'll come back later to lock up, if you could just pull the door closed when you leave?"

Alan was pleasantly surprised that he didn't have to vacate Ellie's office yet. "Of course," he said gratefully, holding out his hand. "Thank you for all your help, Mike."

"Oh, no trouble at all Doctor Grant," Mike replied, enthusiastically grabbing the outstretched arm with his own hand and pulling Alan in for a sudden hug. "It's been a real pleasure and an honour. You take care now, and come back to see us sometime."

With that, he slapped Alan on the back, in a way which was surely intended as friendly. However, due to the man's size and stature, it felt to Alan like he was being headbutted in the back by a moose. Mike headed towards the door, picking a folder off the floor and throwing it on the surface as he went by, leaving Alan alone again once more.

Alan took a breath. He was no closer to finding Ellie, though he felt closer to her in this room. He walked to her desk and picked up the name plate. In his solitary status, he allowed himself the luxury of tracing her name with his index finger. It took him back to a time just after they first met. There used to be a roster list up at the main camp of everyone who was up at the dig site. In those early days, he would trace over the newly dried ink, her curling signature signalling to him and making him feel that little bit more complete.

A stray thought shook him out of his nostalgic musings and he looked over to the other desk. Why had there been a file on the floor? He wasn't one to really recall something like the detail of a folder, but he was sure he had seen this one before. Walking over to the desk Mike had placed it on, Alan gingerly lifted the corner of the cover. He immediately recognised the contents. His worst worries were now confirmed to him. They'd got to her. Somehow, they'd got to her. They'd taken Ellie to Isla Nublar.

Alan thought about running after Mike; perhaps there was something on a security tape. That would just be a waste of time though. He knew what had happened. It was what he had feared ever since Peter Evers had left the lecture theatre. He knew he should have called Ellie straight away and warned her. He was too much of a coward. He was relying too much on the fact that he knew she would never agree to go. Now he had to curse his stupidity and his lack of bravery for the fact that clearly, she hadn't agreed. They'd taken her because of him. This was his fault.

Alan pulled his phone out of his pocket. He needed to get to the island, as much as the thought made his skin crawl. He had a good idea of who could help him, although this was another phone call he really didn't want to make. It was his fault that Ellie was in danger; now he needed to go get her back. For all the many times and many ways she had saved him, this was his opportunity to repay her.


	7. Chapter 7

1993

Costa Rica

There was a slight sting to the water as the heat slowly withered away. The sudden coldness on her skin after the steady rhythm of the gentle warmth felt like her soul was slowly trying to be pulled out of her body. Ellie reached for the shower tap and turned it a little to the right, shivering in the chill before the temperature gently rose a little. 

She looked down at the tiled surface below her; the water running clear and unsoiled now. At one point she felt she would never be clean; dirt and grime had caked her body and enclosed it in the lingering stench. She reached out and turned the nozzle all the way, tightening it as the final few drops of water escaped. Ellie griped the ceramic surface as she stepped out on to the marbled floor, the water flocking south from her skin, making the surface slippery already. The towels hanging on the rail were a pristine white, positioned perfectly parallel to the rail. She wrenched one harshly off the bar and threw it on the floor, mopping up the puddles with her foot. The other she took and roughly rubbed at her head, getting most of the moisture off, leaving a string of darkened ringlets behind.

Feeling the air cool again, she used the dampened town to briskly rub down her body, the water droplets being dragged into the soft material. Ellie grabbed at the hotel robe hanging on the back of the door, encasing her body in it, feeling the softness there. As she headed to the door, she couldn't help but look at the reflection in the mirror. The steam had fogged up the glass, so she could barely make out her silhouette. It looked trapped behind fog, an imperfect image of her, but her all the same.

She turned the door handle, feeling the wrinkles on the pads of her fingers struggle to grip. The cosy warmth of the hotel bedroom hit her with a force. It felt urban and unnatural in its comfort. They may have been off the island, but they certainly weren't home. Her footfalls fell silent against the cushioned carpet. There were no lights on, but the room was engulfed with brightness from the outside window. The harsh neon signs and the glow of the lamps dominated the view. The moonlight struggled to make itself seen, but still persevered. The room was still, stopped in time, but she immediately sensed his presence by the window. He was never the height of quick movement, but the whirring of his mind always seemed to be visible to her.

He still didn't stir as she walked towards the window, but she knew he had heard her approaching. He was sloped to the side, with his head resting gently on his hand as he was leaning against the side of the cosmopolitan armchair, looking out of place, like a dove in a cage. Ellie crossed gently to the chair opposite him and curled her legs under herself as she sat down. He still didn't stir.

She noticed the small table between them was overtaken by large, silver cloches, painfully reflecting the light so they were almost too harsh to look at. They weren't there when she had gone to take a shower.

"What's this?" she asked, cracking the silence and nodding towards the table.

Alan only stirred slightly at the sound of her voice, slightly shrugging his shoulder. "They sent it up to us. I don't know who's paying for it," he replied.

"Well, as long as it's free…" Ellie said, feeling her stomach settle slightly with just the timbre of his voice. She lifted the first cloche to reveal a sandwich with a side of fries, the salty scent filling her nose and making her stomach growl in complaint at the delay.

"I can't even remember the last time I ate," Alan said, this time sitting up and leaning towards the table. Ellie gave him a gentle smile and reached towards the cloche nearest to her. She pulled it off and the air around her became instantly colder. Sitting in front of her were two perfectly quinelled scoops of ice cream.

The memory of the last time she ate now came flooding back. Her senses felt heightened by the appearance of the dessert in front of her. The shine and the drops of melted cream seemed to pool around the plate and the sweet vanilla smell was too saccharine on the back of her pallet. It was teamed with the coldness that polluted the air, hitting her sinuses like an ice pick, making the sweetness almost bitter. A metallic taste filled her mouth, swirling with the syrupiness, the dripping of the cream reminding her of blood. She felt like she was swimming in it, drowning in it, as the taste of it came back.

It spread through her whole body, this cold bitter feeling, she could hear the cream drip now, taste the redness of the metal blood, seeing it swimming over her eyes. The robe became itchy towards her skin, like it was squeezing gore onto her body through its soft bristles. The room around her was over stimulating her senses, the light becoming brighter and flickering, the comfort of the room deferring to the coldness, feeling like an abattoir filled with rotting flesh and dismembered limbs.

Ellie felt her stomach churn as scents that she wanted to leave behind came flooding back and her eyes were seeing things she wished she had left behind. She felt acid stalk up her throat. There was the sound of crashing metal against wood and she suddenly realised she was halfway across the room. She felt like she was in a nightmare, not fully in control of her body and only aware of moments.

When her knees hit cold, slippery marble she realised she was back in the bathroom. She heard a sound of pain and realised that it was her own throat retching into the ceramic toilet bowl. There was barely anything coming up, her stomach being empty already. The waves of her stomach contracting seemed to go on forever, punching a beat into her ribs. When they paused briefly, she noticed a pressure moving up and down her back, making her suddenly flinch, unsure of where she was or what could be moving.

The movement stopped when she flinched, perceiving her unease. Then gentle fingertips stroked away the damp hair that had plastered to her forehead. They seemed familiar and calming and seemed to tame all the nerves in her body which had been vigorously shaking her skin. Ellie hadn't even heard him come into the bathroom. She felt her breathing start to regulate slightly, but the taste in her mouth and the clawing at her skin was still there. She had to get it away from her.

Standing on shaky legs she stumbled her way back to the shower, quickly removing the stifling robe as she went. She stepped inside, turning the nozzle, not waiting or caring for the water to be warm. She looked back at the bathroom. Alan was now sitting with his back to the closed door, his arms resting on his raised knees. His head was buried between his arms, so Ellie couldn't see his face. She knew he was crying. She couldn't see or hear it and he probably wouldn't let her, but she could tell.

Ellie hadn't drawn the shower curtain and the water was now pooling onto the floor. She still didn't close it, not wanting to be separated from him. She just put her head back on the cold tile, letting the water run down her body, trying not to think about how it reminded her of blood splattering and spilling from those around her.

* * *

A loud bang woke Ellie up. Someone in a room on the same floor must have let the door spring back too quickly, creating a noise in the calm. She sat up, with a start, her palms feeling clammy and a pounding quickening in her ears. She jumped a little again as she felt a finger trace along her lower torso, along the lace of her underwear and up her naked back to where the bandage on her shoulder was. She sat still for a minute and let him trace the faded freckles on her back, like stars in a constellation. She looked over at him and saw him gazing out the window. The artificial lighting had now been dimmed, the clawing and stabbing brightness no longer trying to wrestle the moon for the limelight. Alan was looking up at the clear sky, projecting the stars onto her back like she was his whole universe.

He turned to look at her. The moonlight glowing on his face made him seem younger. His eyes were fixed on her. Blue eyes which pierced the world around him. That which could look so cold when glaring at a stranger or a foe, now filled with the calmness of the sea. A clarity that she realised was only directed at her.

Ellie gently reached out and ran two fingers along his jaw line, the slight stubble causing friction along the trail. She stopped as she got to his dusky, pink lips, chapped ever so slightly. She rested the pad of her finger there lightly, causing the left side of his lips to quirk a little into a slight smirk before he gave a quick peck onto her fingernail. It was a brief moment of fantasy, taking her out of reality and back into what their life was. She realised he been virtually running on autopilot since they arrived at the hotel, distant and withdrawn from everything around him. Just his smile gave her hope.

Alan slowly rolled towards her, putting his cheek against her shoulder. Gently, he pressed kisses along her chest and to her collar bone. The solid weight and shape of his body resting and moving on to her gave a feeling of comfort and safety. Her body felt like her own again. Her skin tingled with longing, negating those sensations which she tried to scrub away earlier. She started to slowly tickle the back of his calf with her toes, an encouragement that seemed to urge him on and take away any uncertainty he may have had. His hand started provocatively brushing down her side, gripping her curves securely and invitingly. Ellie ran her hand up his arm, feeling the hair and skin prickle at the movement. Briefly cupping his cheek, she moved her fingers under his jaw. She raised his chin up so they were almost nose to nose; she needed to see his eyes. Being in his vision was like an anchor to her. Without it, she felt like she was just drifting away. 


End file.
